The Human Heart
by Vetinari
Summary: Newly freed and furious, Greed thinks Dante has sent Envy to kill him ... but he doesn’t count on Envy’s own plans. Warning: loose canon, abuse, sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

Greed leaned back further in his corner, safe in the half-light from the thick tallow candles and the flickering gas lamps

Greed leaned back further in his corner, safe in the half-light of the thick tallow candles and the flickering gas lamps. The place wasn't empty, but it wasn't crowded, either – it never was. There were few strangers here this evening; there was hardly anyone in the room he couldn't identify by sight. Some were allies – he paid them for their loyalty, or their indifference. Some of them were even on his side, whichever side that was. In any case, the perpetual drunken state of the bar's frequent denizens was his most effective shield against prying eyes; not much could penetrate the mire of mumbling voices, the half-sanity of liquor. Snatches of conversation and single telling syllables reached his ears. Freedom, he'd learned, was a dangerous thing, and it was always wise to have a place to return to, some wall you could press your back against when the chips were down.

And so Greed leaned back in the comfort of the shadow, and watched, and waited. Rumours thrived in this half-light world he lived in, but here and there truths trickled down through the drunken stories and rambling narratives. A change was coming; even now rumours reached him, rumours of brothers and alchemists, and he was intrigued.

But rumours weren't the only thing Greed was interested in tonight.

His eye was fixed on a figure in the far corner, in the far booth, near the entrance and closest to the bar. The light burned through the filmy glass shutters of the gas lamps and the fickle electric bulbs, but her face was completely concealed by the shadow of her dark, hooded cloak. Concealed, at least, to everyone but Greed. His eyes were keen – the darkness didn't matter to him. He could see quite clearly the curve of her pale chin, the dark lacy smudge of her eyelashes, the long undulations of her coiled hair that framed her oddly severe face. She sat with her hands quietly clasped on the table.

Greed ran his tongue along one long canine; he took a swig of his own glass, and waited. Waiting was never something he'd been too good at, but hell – he'd waited a century and more in that starving, senseless oblivion – he could wait a little longer. For this one, he'd wait.

In a few moments, one of the waitresses – the blonde one – arrived at her table. Greed could see the women quite clearly, even through the maze of bottles hanging from the ceiling and the stools and chairs still propped up on some of the tables. The dark woman – the woman in the booth – kept her heavy eyes lowered and after a few syllables on her part, the waitress turned back to the bar. She returned with a drink, something transparent in a small glass. The dark lady didn't thank the waitress, nor did she raise her eyes from the table.

Greed turned his head where he sat in the corner, twisting a little to better observe her. Her features were strong but pleasant; hers was not the kind of beauty you saw every day. She wasn't the type, for example, who looked like she usually spent her evenings in a dump like this.

There was something terribly attractive in the shy little way she was fingering her drink.

Greed grinned. If he hadn't been certain before, then the dance of fingertips on the rim of her glass would have convinced him. Freedom had a terrible price, but it was always worth it. Always.

For her part, the woman seemed intent on keeping to herself, but there had been eyes focused on her since she'd entered the bar – Greed wasn't the only one interested. Greed drained his own glass and stretched, and then ambled on over across the room to the figure in the shadows. He let the clank of his booted heels announce his intentions to the rest of the bar as he maneuvered his way across the floor. The bartender saw him coming, recognized the gleam in his eye, and vanished to the far side of the bar to strike up a conversation with some serious, somber men on stools. The woman noticed his presence only slowly; she looked up at him with a startled expression when at last he stood beside her, her pale mouth forming an "O" of mild surprise, her brow delicately ruffled.

Greed slid into the seat across from her. He leaned forward and with one flick of the fingers he pushed the peaked hood off the crown of her head. She did not stop him, nor did she seem surprised by his movements. Her eyes stared into his quizzically as he stretched his long arms across the back of the bench.

"Nice try, Envy," he said conversationally, "but no dice. How's my favourite little sociopath doing?"

The woman's eyes flashed – maybe with anger, but more likely it was just an effect of the erratic candlelight. There was a strangely delicate crunching noise as the woman's body shifted; her face fell away in slow, mesmerizing gradations to reveal the more compelling, less obvious beauty of Envy himself. Greed had always loved to watch him transform – it filled him with an uncomfortable delight to watch how easily the Great Deceiver slipped into a different skin, and one hundred years later, the process still had the same appeal. The woman's eyes darkened and widened, the nose became more pointed, the cheekbones more defined. The pale skin grew paler still, and musculature rippled beneath the plain black traveling cloak.

"That was an interesting face," Greed began. He used his best tone of commonplace pleasantry. The bar wasn't noisy, but the mumble and mutter of drunken conversation ensured that his voice did not carry far. Either way, all the louses and informants in this bar belonged to him; enough money bought a lot of disinterest, and the frequenters of this bar knew enough not to question Greed. He'd broken a few necks to manage it, and sure enough, nobody was interested in the woman any more. No eyes glanced up from any table, and nobody seemed to notice Envy's fae form materialize among them.

"I haven't seen it before," Greed continued, lighting himself a cigarette. "Then again, I _have _been out of the loop for a while. I guess I've missed a few things."

Envy shook out his long black hair and popped his shoulders back into place with a wince.

"It was a stupid gag, Envy, coming in here in all that get-up."

But Envy wasn't stupid; Greed doubted that Envy had expected his little parlour trick to work on _him_. More likely he was just testing, just playing. Sure enough …

"Oh, don't think I was trying to fool you," he sing-songed, in a tone too jaunty by far, once he'd readjusted his limbs. "I know you're too clever to fall for that old trick." He smiled at Greed – a poisonous smile. "But I have to ask you – " and here his tone turned dusky, and a slower sort of smile played on his lips – "how are you always able to tell when it's me?"

Greed exhaled, long and smooth.

There'd been a time – of course – when Envy had been able to fool Greed with his disguises as well as anyone, but Greed knew the expression in his eyes too well to be taken in now.

Even after a hundred years.

Greed leaned in and matched Envy's tone. "How do you think I spent the last century of captivity, Envy, if not thinking about your eyes?"

"Always the charmer, Greed." The grin again. There was no flicker of recognition in Envy's eyes as he raised his eyebrows at the other man, no hint of discomfort or guilt, and Greed felt vaguely irritated with himself for having expected it. But still … those eyes – that face – they'd been the last thing Greed had seen before Envy had sealed him away.

Fucking prick.

_He remembered the silhouette standing before him, slender and distorted by the backlight. No laughter, no words, no apologies. Just that stare, the anger shimmering in his eyes, his movements swift and sharp, fueled by that seething fury. And then Envy had shut him off against the light and the life and he'd been left with his hunger boiling inside him. One hundred years._

But Envy was as unrepentant as ever, that coy and malignant bastard. His eyes glinted now as he leaned further across the table, head cocked to one side and that alluring smirk still lurking beneath the sweep of his hair. He fingered the rim of his glass. "You always WERE suave, in that crude, clumsy way of yours. But I'm being neglectful – can I buy you a drink?"

Envy had upped the ante; Greed responded with flat, painful politeness.

"Certainly."

Envy flagged down the waitress with gesture, and Greed took the opportunity to survey the closest thing he had to a kinsman. Even in the half-light of the bar, Envy looked exactly as Greed remembered. Crystallized for so long in the fury of his memory, it was strange to see him in person, up close, touchable … His dark, ramrod-straight hair had not grown, his body was composed of the same taut lines, and as the cloak parted from his shoulders as he turned in his seat, Greed could see that he still wore the same tight black shift. Vanity was not one of Envy's vices, and more was the pity.

Envy caught the appraisal, and raised an eyebrow. "You're looking well, Envy." They kept their tones light. Light and piercing.

"I wish I could say the same for you – but this den of thieves doesn't suit you."

"Well … I never was as posh as you." Greed stubbed his cigarette out on the table and let his last drag blow out in a cloud.

The waitress brought the drink; Envy dismissed her without a second glance. She paused, only for a moment; Greed gave her the tiniest of nods, a twitch of the fingers, and she fled. Envy raised an eyebrow at him.

"What was that about?"

"You can choose to ask me questions, and I can choose not to answer. I've got to say, Envy, it's a change to see you interacting with humans this way."

"What way?"

"Without killing them. You didn't do it like this in my day."

"They're dogs, Greed, and I don't do it for my health." Envy's tone did not falter; he replied smoothly. He smiled at Greed and sipped his drink. It was a cold smile, a shuttered smile. "So how are you enjoying freedom, little brother?"

_Greed did not love freedom so much as he had hated captivity. He'd hated it, loathed it; unable to move or breathe or even think beyond the demands of his hunger. His greed had drummed against his brain until it immobilized him: his limbs had been crippled by the lethargy of lust. He'd wanted freedom, perhaps: or pain, or release, or death: anything and everything, and he'd wanted it so much it burned. He had always wanted everything, of course – desire was his natural state of being, his default mode, his basic programming. His first memories were of hunger, of that great gaping hole of desire in his gut … but trapped, unable to satisfy his hunger, if only for a little while … unable to own or possess or hold anything, perfectly still, immovable …into the void …that had been torture. _

_If he'd had the capacity for change, he liked to think that he'd have gone mad._

"Just fine, thanks."

"I assume these are all your people?" Envy gestured to the floor, where many pairs of eyes were looking in every direction but theirs.

"All the ones that matter."

"And what are you going to do with yourself now?"

"Depends. You haven't told me why you're here."

"No. Have you contacted any of the others?"

"Wouldn't you be the first to know if I had?"

"_Have _you?"

"No, but I'm sending them Christmas cards this year."

"Well," Envy whispered, pushing his own empty glass aside and linking his fingers beneath his chin, "we're play-acting very well, aren't we? You can blend in with humans when it suits you, it seems, Greed. I understand. It's so easy to pick up their silly conventionalities. Politeness, decorum, manners, things to be said and not said. Humanity is a veneer."

"Even for most humans."

"Especially for humans." Envy spoke too quickly; there was bitterness in his tone. Greed had intentionally struck a nerve, and Envy's anger, never far from spilling over at the best of times, was now visible on his face.

Playtime was over.

Greed stretched back and downed his drink. "Not that I'm not fascinated by your self-indulgent bullshit, but what _are_ you doing here, Envy?"

Envy did not so much as blink at the abrupt change in tone; he knew Greed's mannerisms and habits just as well as Greed knew Envy's. He raised an eyebrow and waited for Greed's glass to clink down on the tabletop before he spoke.

"I'm sure this comes as no surprise to you, but Dante is still disappointed with you … upset ... one hundred and thirty years certainly haven't cooled her off, at any rate."

Greed was not surprised by this information, but he let himself laugh anyway. "Hah!" he barked, slapping a hand down on the table. "You're still panting after that old hag?"

Envy's eyes flashed fire and his anger visibly rose to the surface – but he knew how to modulate it, how to shape it. Greed, however, had known him long enough to read the look that flashed across his face, even in the grungy candlelight. Envy opened his mouth to speak but Greed waved a hand.

"Oh, don't get angry, Envy – she's a wasted old creature and she's the only one who doesn't know it. You know it, too – better even than I do, I'll bet. You're not as complicated as you like to think you are. Let me guess, and bypass what would no doubt have been a dramatic revelation – she sent you here to kill me, didn't she?"

If Envy was surprised at this, he didn't show it. He took a sip of Greed's drink. "You don't seem upset."

"Give me an answer: she sent you to kill me?"

Envy grinned and shook his hair back easily, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of anger in his voice this time. This was deep anger, self-inflicted; this was not Envy's usual fiery temper at work.

"Don't flatter yourself. I volunteered."

Greed fell silent. _That _hurt, but only a little more than he'd anticipated: Greed wasn't stupid enough to expect anything better from Envy.

"You treated her abysmally," Envy continued, masking his temper with an affected pout. "You betrayed her – you betrayed all of us. It's only natural for her to want to revenge."

"I love to hear homunculi speak of the 'natural.' I treated her the way she designed me to treat people." They were circling each other now, looking for the weak spots in the rhetoric.

"It's her fault, then?"

"I'm not going to play this game with you, Envy."

Envy smirked and cocked his head, but then he seemed to change his mind, and the brittle smile slid away. He looked down at the table. "Well … was it worth it?"

Greed grinned at the question. One of Envy's hands still rested on the table; Greed reached over and circled the wrist with his long, thick fingers. Envy looked up at the touch, met his eyes. There was a question burning in him. Greed lowered his head and breathed his answer. "You mean, was having my way with Dante – _owning_ her for once, instead of the other way around, making her beg, making her scream – was it worth one hundred years of torture?"

"Fuck!" There was a sharp intake of breath from Envy, and Greed felt the bones crack beneath his fingers; he'd gotten over-excited. The memory still thrilled him. Yes, it _had_ been exhilarating, taking it … taking what he knew, even then, was the thing that Envy wanted most. He let the wrist slide from his fist, watched as Envy repaired it with a grimace. The bones cracked as he twisted it back and forth.

_Yes, taking Dante had been good … hearing her hard voice tremble had set his pseudo-soul into a frenzy … but it hadn't been good enough._

_Nothing ever was._

"No, it wasn't worth it. Not in the end."

Nothing ever was.

"Well, that just breaks my heart," Envy sneered.

"And if you had a heart worth breaking, Envy, I might feel guilty about that." Greed paused. "Maybe. But that's not why."

"That's not why what?"

Greed leaned forward. "That's not why Dante sent you, and you know it."

Oh, it was true that Dante wanted Envy to try and kill him. Try. She knew he couldn't do it, of course, and Envy knew it too. Or maybe Envy didn't – maybe he was still deluding himself. Maybe he didn't want to think that Dante – his precious Dante, the mother he'd clung to after Hoenheim had rejected him – had sent him to his death.

Greed tried to find the answer in Envy's face, but his eyes were shuttered again. He was wearing a smile that was a little too knowing for Greed's liking, and when he spoke, it was in that poisonous whispering voice that Greed knew so very well.

"I'm hurt that you don't think that you, and you alone, were enough for my coming here, brother. I wanted to see you again, when I heard you were free – don't you believe that?"

"I see. So, you're not angry that I escaped your prison. You're just feeling nostalgic, and want to make up for lost time. You're not angry about my having Dante, when all you get are scraps. And you're indifferent to the fact that Dante sent you here to die?"

A spasm crossed Envy's face; only for a moment, but it was enough for Greed, who threw his head back and laughed. "You're just drowning in self-induced angst, aren't you? Oh, father left me! My mother doesn't love me!"

Envy's anger had taken hold of him once more. Envy visibly struggled to control the rhythm of his breathing, the rate of his heart. Slow breaths, in and out, but his fists remained clenched on the tabletop.

Greed knew Envy well – they'd been brothers, once, a very long time ago – and he knew what was at the heart of envy. The assurance of your own incompetence, the knowledge that you yourself were not good enough, that other people were smarter, faster, stronger, better. That other people – or in Envy's case, other homunculi – were of a higher caliber than you. Envy was a complex personified. And Envy, jealous of Greed's innate – imprinted – ability to take what he wanted, even as Envy vied for Dante's attention and affection, had been only too happy to take them away from Greed. If he couldn't have Dante's love, then neither could his brother.

Greed grinned. "You're content just to wallow in anger, aren't you, Envy? You sit, you brood, you sulk over your plots and complications, but you don't have the guts to _do _anything about it. I left. That's it, that's all – I just left, okay? I saw an opportunity and I took it. But you ... you're not built for doing. You're built for moping, for building up these great big reserves of _hatred _and just keeping them. What do you do with all that anger, big brother? You're painfully content with inaction. You're the eternal teenager, Envy ... as least until Dante runs out of red stones, or finds the Philosopher's Stone and doesn't need you any more. You fool – you should be trying to bury it, hide it, not sniff it out for her like a dog!"

"You know about the Stone?" hissed Envy, rising from the bench so quickly the table bounced, and Greed's drink slopped over the edges of its glance.

"Oh, I hear things, Envy. For instance, I hear there's a pair of brothers wandering around hereabouts, Alchemists both, who hold the key to the Stone."

"Don't talk about them in front of me! Don't you DARE!"

Envy's fury amused Greed. "I'll talk about what I want in _my _bar," he responded calmly.

"What use can they have for you, then?" he snapped. His sly tenor became a bellow: "You don't want the Stone – you're content to wallow in this hole with drink and whores and chimera freaks!"

"Sit down, Envy, and relax."

Envy sat, commanded by Greed's imperial tone more than his actual words. He'd always listened to Greed above the others, even – occasionally – above Dante. He'd recognized his superior when he'd seen him, and while he hated Greed, hated him enough to trap him for what he thought was all eternity, he respected him as well.

At least, much as Envy could commit to respecting anyone else.

"What's your interest in the Stone, then, Greed?" Envy panted. His anger had taken control of him – he was fighting to keep it down. It was a losing battle. Rage was something Envy kept close to his heart always – he couldn't help it.

Greed shrugged. "Bartering tool, maybe - nothing fancy. To think that people like you are getting so worked up over it … must be worth a fortune."

"Well, they don't have it, so you can stop wondering right there. They have the ability, but nothing more. So unless you can find the missing pieces of this puzzle game we're playing, I'd say you're out of luck."

"Not necessarily. I'd also take immense joy in fucking up any one of Dante's little schemes. What's her interest in the Stone, Envy?"

"I'm surprised you don't know, wise man that you are."

"Tell me, Envy."

That tone again.

"It's the ultimate transmutation device."

"Ah. And it could give you a soul, then, could it?"

"That … is the plan."

"That's _your _plan, you mean. And when Dante has the Stone do you think she'll keep you around, when she has no need for you? Or is Dante the only reason you're rushing around for the Stone? And who knows?" Greed continued, leaning back and closing his eyes in mock daydream. "Maybe she'll like you better when you're human. That is, if she doesn't simply decide to throw you aside with the trash. You always did like to think you were better than the rest of us, didn't you, Envy? You act like you're better than us because you know for a fact that you're not. You were her first version, a blueprint for the others. We're all improvements on you."

"Even you, Greed?" asked Envy in a treacherous voice, all slippery and lovely as his hands went back to playing with his glass. Greed looked down into his eyes, but they were shuttered. Envy was smiling. That could mean anything.

"Even me, Envy."

Greed knew Envy well, knew him too well to think that he might have changed. Envy was static. Envy didn't change. Envy couldn't change.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Depends. What do you want to do about me?"

"Depends. Can we go somewhere a little less … conspicuous?"

Greed paused for a moment, only a moment, but it was a moment of uncertainty and Envy saw it. Something terrible flickered across his face – something hungry and hot – and he licked his white, pointed teeth.

"Done."


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, what, updates? People like that kind of thing?

* * * * *

Envy watched Greed carefully as he stretched lazily and stood. His long limbs made his movements seem languid but Envy was certain he sensed a touch of edginess in him. There had been a tension in his biting smile as they'd talked, and now Envy detected some bravado, some overcompensation, in that long, leggy lope. Greed led the way to a small door at the very back of the room, past the bar and hidden in the shadow of a jut in the wall. Envy noted with some measure of appreciation the fact that nobody's eyes turned to them, nor to the now-empty booth. Greed must have paid them well – paid them, or frightened them.

And it all pointed to what Envy feared most. Greed was planning. He'd made himself a nest, a base of operations. Which meant that he probably had no intention of coming back at all. Maybe … was it because he was afraid of Dante? Perhaps – just because he'd screwed her over and left her didn't mean he didn't fear her. Envy cast aside his bluff talk as hot air – and Greed had a lot of that. It was nonsense – nobody, not even Greed, could act like that, not with Dante. Nobody could treat her with the callousness that Greed had and _not_ fear her.

Yes, Greed was afraid of Dante. He had to be.

He chose that explanation, because he couldn't put the other one into words. Because the other one tasted bitter, stung his mouth.

He followed Greed up the unlit stairwell, through a few heavy, battered steel doors, which Greed kicked open with nonchalant grace and slammed shut behind them, and they emerged into a small room, low-ceilinged. An upstairs apartment, probably let from the bartender: dingy and dark, with open nails on the walls and boarded-up windows. Light occasionally flickered in through the spaces from the erratic electric wiring. Few accoutrements, and mostly broken. Splinters of wood here and there. It was as grungy as the bar.

Greed stretched an expansive hand. "Chez Greed."

Envy recovered himself. "You live in a hovel, Greed. A trash compactor not even human waste would squat in. How is this better than coming home?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to hurt my feelings." Greed pushed Envy lightly onto the chesterfield; Envy let him. He felt the springs pop beneath his thighs.

"A drink?" asked Greed, grinning as he played host.

"Is it poison?" Envy tossed out.

"Hah, hah." Dry. Greed disappeared through another door, or rather, a hole where a door once used to be; Envy could hear him rattling glasses. There must have been a brighter light in the other room; Envy could see his shadow firm and dark against the far wall. Envy watched the way his shadow-limbs furled and unfurled, stretched and manipulated the world around them.

They were remarkable creatures – not human, but like enough to pass.

"Let me ask you something," called out Greed from the other room.

"Yes, I think you're a brutish, ignorant dumb-fuck. Was that the question?"

"Why did you volunteer for this?" There was no change in his voice – it was the same light, slippery tone they'd been wearing all evening. As though this were some big joke, Envy coming here tonight. As though Greed didn't expect him to go through with it.

"You betrayed her," he replied, a little too quickly. Damn. He slowed his breathing and tried it again, speaking more slowly, more clearly.

"You betrayed her."

_You betrayed me._

"You know what I mean. Why did she let _you_ come, instead of the others?"

The question was pointed. Envy thought quickly, trying to think up a plausible excuse rather than admit the truth. Yes, he'd known Dante hadn't expected him to come back, to make his way out of here alive. But maybe … if he _did_ do what she'd sent him to do … if he did manage … somehow … would she … would she … ?

"No," said Greed, emerging from the other room with two mismatched glasses, "no, she won't. It won't work. Either way, Envy – you've got to know this by now. You must." If his grin was taunting, his tone was brutally matter-of-fact. "You go back alive, even alive and successful, and all that'll happen is she'll punish you less."

Greed had crossed the room, now, and was standing behind him. Envy heard him slide the glasses across the surface of a table. He felt Greed's hands in the air behind his neck, he smelled Greed all around him. Greed's voice whispered in his ear: "There's no _reward_ in this for you. You're not going to get what you want, not from her. And you know it."

Envy clenched his teeth. Damn Greed – he knew, he'd always known. Envy had been created first, when Dante and … when _they_ were ignorant and foolish, when they'd had no skill. Envy's strengths and Envy's weaknesses … they were _their_ fault. They were _His_ fault. He was rough, he was unpolished, he was broken in places and the world didn't make sense through his homunculous eyes.

And Greed had always known.

Damn the man anyway.

He felt Greed moving behind him, laughing to himself. Heard him straighten; heard the coils of his vertebrae crackle as he stretched upwards, all casual and cool, arms extended. "Take it from me, Envy, you're better off – "

"_Better off running, you coward_?" Envy was faster than Greed – no one was faster than Envy, no human and no homunculi – and before Greed knew what was happening Envy had stood, spun, and clocked him about the head. Greed staggered backwards, against the couch: another blow, a leg to the face and a knee to the chest but Greed wasn't going down easily and took advantage of Envy's compromised stance; he was winded, but he grabbed the smaller man by the shoulder and forearm, and before Envy could deliver another knee to the gut he pushed him away with all his might.

Envy's head whiplashed against the wall and the plaster crumbled beneath his body's impact but he had braced himself for it and was up again before Greed was quite ready.

Another kick, but one swipe from Greed and Envy was back on his back again, head spinning, and the next moment Greed had him pinned to the ground with his crystallized carbon forearm, the entire weight of his body pressed into Envy's chest.

Envy could barely breathe: Greed's weight immobilized him, his proximity shocked him, his hot scent staggered him.

Greed laughed at his easy victory, and pressed his lips to Envy's forehead roughly. "That was well done," he whispered, with that long, lazy grin of his, "but you can't beat me."

_You can't beat me._

Envy knew it to be true – he'd always known it. And he'd known somewhere inside the deep, dark channels of his brain that Dante had meant to send him to his death tonight. Envy wasn't fooled by that grin, that grin he wanted to smack off his goddamn superior face. That grin – he remembered it from when they were younger, and it had been his best companion – that long, lazy smile that once had melted his anger instead of fueling it – or at least, melting what part of it that could be melted away, for Envy was always angry, always frustrated, always churning over something in his brain.

Greed was smiling – that fucking smile.

Envy wasn't fooled by his calm exterior – there was anger underneath. He knew that Greed was furious at Envy for what he'd done to him. Envy didn't having a working concept of justice or morality, but he knew that if Greed had betrayed _him_ like he'd betrayed Greed, Greed would be dead. He'd have killed him in one fast, furious heartbeat. And Envy knew just as surely that tonight, Greed intended to kill him.

Envy was built for spry and quick and nimble – he wasn't meant to be blasting away at a wall of diamond.

Greed's arm shifted back into flesh; Envy could feel the heat of it against his chest.

_You can't beat me._

"Don't flatter yourself," Envy whispered, trying desperately to keep the jaunty note in his tone, "you just like to tell yourself that."

With a quick burst of agility, he slipped out from under Greed's bracing arm, slipped out and up and slammed the solid side of his hand across the back of Greed's neck. Greed went down in a second, taken by surprise, and Envy kicked him once, twice in the ribs, kicked him again –

– and his leg exploded in pain; he fell to the ground, hard, but was up again in a minute and his fist was already moving by the time he realized that Greed had transformed again, that his entire body was now crystallized carbon. Too late, too much momentum – he punched Greed across the face and fell away, blinded by the pain in his white-hot knuckles, clutching his hand. And then the blow came – Greed's fist connected with his stomach. Not hard, not for Greed – Greed could destroy buildings and pulverize cities if he put his fist to it – but the force of the blow flung Envy against the wall; the back of his head connected with the support pillar even as the plaster gave way, and he fell to the ground in a heap. Stars churned in his vision.

And somewhere above him, he heard Greed's voice.

"Come on, Envy. Is that it?"

Greed slipped back into his normal form and watched with a sparkle of victory in his eyes as Envy curled up in the foetal position, arm pressed to his chest, wincing.

"Finished?" he growled. He was barely panting; Envy was faster than him, but Envy was no match for a wall of solid stone.

"There's no way in hell you could have beaten me, Envy."

And that was true – he could not possibly have won. Greed knew it, Dante knew it, and Envy knew it.

* * * * *

Greed wouldn't have been Greed if he hadn't taken a moment to savour his temporary victory, small though it was. It was a beautiful sight: Envy looked up at him from his position on the floor, eyes watering with pain, clutching his hand, and still managing to glare pulsing blue fury.

He wanted to hurt Envy, yes he did – the little fucker had tormented him, locked him up, imprisoned him – but that was a fight between him and Envy, and right now Dante was in the way. Dante had sent him, and it just didn't seem the same when he knew that Dante wanted him to hurt Envy. He wasn't about to do Dante's dirty work for her.

Greed again rolled back on top of Envy, trapping him beneath his own body. "Aah … you broke those pretty little fingers, didn't you?" he whispered, taking the wrist between his thumb and forefinger. "Now, let me ask you again – why did you volunteer for this? If you knew you were going to die, then why?"

Envy whispered something, staring back up at him with that shuttered look. Among the unintelligible words he caught a few syllables that sounded like "mother."

Greed dropped his hand, disgusted. "Her name is Dante, little brother."

"My name is Envy, Greed." Still monotone, still staring with that hollow look.

"Why did you come here?"

"For you, Greed."

"For me what?"

"For you."

A second pause, a beat, and then Greed rallied, reminding himself that Envy was just trying to catch him off-guard. Again. "Did you envy me, baby brother, when I left?"

"Of course I did!" snapped Envy, curling in on himself, panting against the pain. The familiar crunching noise told Greed that the bones were beginning to mesh back together, that soon Envy would be up and mobile again. "I envied everything you ever did – your freedom, your – your _ease_ – and you know it and you've always known it so stop fucking around with me!"

"I'm not the one playing coy and withholding information."

Silence for a moment.

"Why did you leave?" Envy asked of the silence. He wasn't staring at Greed any more, but at some other point in the middle distance between them.

But was this another one of his games? Was Greed imagining that plaintive tone to his voice?

Greed sighed as he dug a squashed packet of cigarettes out of his pants pocket. He extracted one, lit the thing, then slid down onto the floor with his back against the chesterfield.

"Why do you think I left?" A drag, a long exhale. He fixed his eyes on Envy as they sat there on the rough planks of the floor. The lapping, latent hate in Envy's expression was undeniable. "Why do I do anything? Don't be stupid, Envy – we both know you can be perceptive enough when you want to be, and you know why I left. I just … left. I saw an opportunity and I took it. What's so wrong about that, little brother?"

"I'm older than you – don't call me that." A flash of anger.

Greed tsk'd and drummed his fingers against Envy's forehead; Envy jerked away. "Always angry. No, no, you're just a teenager, Envy – you're a – you're a brat. A selfish, whining, permanent child with an inferiority complex. But what you don't have is a death drive. Not yet – you're too selfish to want to give up on life, or whatever it is we have. Now tell me: _why are you here_?"

Greed thought he knew Envy, thought he could predict his every movie, and to a certain extent it was true, and Envy knew it. But it wasn't entirely true, and that was why Greed was temporarily at a loss for words when Envy leaned forward, as smooth and sleek as a cut to the wrist, and kissed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the comments, and thanks for waiting. You guys rock. :)

* * * * *

It all came back to him. Envy's lips on his, their soft, pliant insistence … the way he rested the tip of his tongue on Greed's lower lip … the thread of saliva that hung between them as Envy pulled his head away …

It brought it all back.

Greed pushed Envy away, held him from his body at arm's length. Envy's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, and then he smiled, all coy and radiant and confident, the way Greed remembered him. "Now, Greed …"

Greed slapped him.

Envy shot back, hand to his stinging cheek.

"I'm not falling for that," Greed snarled.

He was angry – angrier than he'd been all evening; to feel Envy's lips on his again … "If you think you can stick a knife in my soft spot – "

Envy interrupted him. "Greed!" His voice was breathy and his eyes were wide. In the darkness it was hard to tell, but Greed thought he detected anxiety there. "Greed – I can be anyone you want me to be – isn't that enough?"

Greed felt the knife twist a little more. There was desperation in Envy's voice, no wheedling, no prying. But he threw that thought away – another trick. Envy was tricky. He turned.

"Nothing's ever enough."

And that was true – the hunger was omnipresent – insatiable.

"Why?" Envy demanded furiously. "Why am I not enough?"

Greed stared at him, as though seeing him for the first time. For all his scheming, for all his duplicity and his double-crosses, Envy was simple in the extreme. Beneath the surface beat a single-mindedness, pulsing as a human heart pulsed.

Pointlessly.

Indifferently.

Envy …

* * * * *

Envy hadn't expected to be rejected like this. He hadn't really expected anything – he'd just done it, without thinking about it. Greed was always hungry. It was in his nature. And while Envy couldn't expect to be all or anything to Greed, he'd thought that … maybe … Greed would be hungry enough, for him, just once, this one last time …

And suddenly Envy was angry, too. His anger burst across his vision like red ink splashed across a page. Fuck Greed and his reservations, his languid pride. This shit was too complicated for him. Greed was huge and he was tiny and he wanted … something … Dante … He lunged forward and caught Greed's mouth in a second kiss, hasty and afraid that Greed would push him away, afraid that he would deny him.

Greed did nothing.

Didn't push him away, didn't pull him close, didn't react at all, and then Envy was angrier, eyes still closed, angry that he didn't pull away, not even that much, kept kissing, oh, gods, he was angry now, so angry … and he fell away when Greed refused him, eyes closed, he was crying now, hit his head against the wall, once, twice, again and again, why was he so stupid? Why couldn't anything ever work out for –

Greed slammed against him, grabbed him by the shoulders and ordered him to open his eyes.

"Envy."

"Yes," Envy gasped, thrilled and terrified at the expression on Greed's face, at the violent proximity of their bodies.

Greed raised one hand and tightened his hold on Envy with the other. "Let me get this through your head: I don't want you."

"Well, why not?" demanded Envy, and when Greed met him with vicious silence, his voice burst from him in an angry scream. "Why not, Greed?"

Greed gave him a long look; no one could do length quite like Greed.

"Run back home to Dante, Envy. You've failed. She might not kill you."

Envy lunged at him; Greed caught the movement and slammed his fist into Envy's face. Envy fell under the blow and collapsed to his knees in front of Greed. He grasped at his hand.

_Oh, gods, what was he doing? He didn't know what he was doing … all he knew … was that he wanted …_

"Greed …" he moaned miserably. Greed tried to retract his hand but Envy held on all the more tightly; his fingers trembled but his grip was insistent. Desperate. "Greed … You might not want _me_, but I know you want _this_." He pressed his face to Greed's bare stomach; he could taste salt, and carbon, and the metallic tinge of earth. He could taste him breathing. He let Greed's hand go, reached his fingers up to Greed's belt, unlatched the buckle.

Greed seized Envy's arms and pulled him to his feet, to face-level in one furious jerk.

"Greed," moaned Envy, speaking before Greed could deny him again, insult him, "I can do anything, Greed – I can be _anyone_. You said it yourself – you want everything, you're always hungry … want me, Greed! Just for a little while – want me for just … just for ten minutes, Greed, please!"

Greed laughed again; Envy could feel its rumble in his belly, but when their eyes locked, Greed's were cold. "Does Dante _want_ you, Envy? Of course she doesn't. You're useful, we both know you're useful, and she uses you happily, but she doesn't _want_ you like she wanted me, like she wanted _him_."

Envy shook his head frantically – how had he gotten himself into this? "Alright, fine – she doesn't! That's what you want to hear, right?"

"Say it slowly."

Envy took a deep breath. "Dante doesn't want me."

The syllables fell around his ears as though they were coming from someone else, far away ...

* * * * *

"Dante doesn't want me."

_No, Dante doesn't want you – and how dare you come here to me, pretending that I'm the one you want, just so you can get those scraps from Dante's table?_

_How dare you try to trick me?_

_How dare you try to pull such a stupid stunt – on ME, of all people! How dare you think you can satisfy ME!_

Greed was going to hurt him, the worst way he knew how. "No, she doesn't." Greed leaned in and brushed his lips against that special little hollow behind Envy's ear. "And neither do I. So change for me, Envy. Change."

_Do you want to know what it feels like, Envy? What my prison did to me? That emptiness – that darkness – nothing. I'll let you feel what it was like – oblivion. The same pain I feel._

Greed had anticipated the anger that flooded through Envy's body, and adjusted his grip accordingly. He watched the rage grow with grim satisfaction – Envy's small body seemed to swell with indignation, but he wasn't going to get caught in Envy's web, not again. He would make him angry – too angry to think.

Which was easy enough to do.

"Change," he whispered, leaning in close and whispering in that delicate ear, nipping at the jawline of that fey face, "You know who I'm chasing, don't you? You've seen him before. Don't think I didn't notice – you hate him, more than you hate me, I'm certain. Turn into _him_, Envy – face me as a worthy opponent."

He could see the insult work its way through Envy's body; every muscle tensed beneath his hands. And his eyes, when he finally looked up at Greed, were hard, shuttered. But Envy complied suddenly, so suddenly that Greed wondered if he had made a mistake.

"Take your hands off me."

Greed made a gentlemanly show of releasing him.

Envy straightened himself out, then he cocked his head, rolled his shoulders once, twice, and in a flicker of second – as though it hurt less to do it faster – he changed.

Greed scanned the new body at his leisure. It seemed to match what he knew of the Elric boy. He was stockier, and a little shorter. His shoulders were firmer and wider, his spine was straight and his stance was proud, not loose and languid. He wore different clothes, of course, and his face had hardened into a more conventionally masculine model, quite unlike Envy's fey, angular features.

And his eyes. That was the most startling change, those eyes. They'd became soft, a kind of butter-yellow. They were light and bright and sparkling.

They were warm.

But the set of his jaw and the cruel smile on the lips was enough to dispel the illusion that Greed was looking at Edward Elric.

"I won't ask you why," the Edward clone hissed. "I know why you're doing this to me."

Greed fished around for a clever answer and came up short. "_Do_ you?"

"You're doing it to hurt me."

"Don't flatter yourself. If all I had to worry about these days was – "

Envy's hands came out of nowhere – they gripped him hard on both sides of his long, strong jaw, one human and one metal. The metal one hurt, pinched the flesh, but that was only an illusion, too – underneath the immediate sensation of alloy, it was only Envy. "Shut up. I'm doing my part of the bargain – you've humiliated me, very neatly. Congratulations. Now you shut up and do yours."

There was a flash of Envy in Edward's expression, and then Envy's mouth came up to Greed's, hot and hungry and panting for more.

And Greed couldn't pretend that that mouth didn't feel _amazing_ on his, the way it fought against his suddenly eager lips for dominance, for play. Couldn't Greed just … let go? He knew he'd hate himself afterwards, and hate Envy all the more, but he'd set up the rules, hadn't he? He'd humiliated him and embarrassed him, beaten him down – surely now he was safe to just … let go? Surely Envy couldn't hurt him any more… surely he was the one in control …

He let go of his reservations as Envy's – Edward's – lips closed down on his once more.

* * * * *

Envy felt something change. Greed's body stirred against him, warmed to him the way it used to. Envy gasped against Greed's weight, Greed's heat; he dug his fingers into Greed's skin as the man pushed him against the wall and began to kiss his way down his jawline. Envy didn't have a god, and Envy didn't pray, but this was exactly what he'd have prayed for, if he did. Despite the crippling pain of humiliation in his stomach, Greed's lips and limbs felt amazing as they pressed up against this new body, manipulated it. He didn't know what he wanted or why he wanted it but Greed wanted _him_ and that was all that registered at the moment …

And when Greed pushed him down onto the broken sofa and began to rip away his clothes, who was he to protest?

* * * * *

Greed felt joy in the supple slipperiness of the body that was nothing like Envy's or Dante, but something new and fresh. He felt his own cock harden as that gaze – golden, smouldering, with only a hint of Envy flickering behind the eyes – caught his. Heart suddenly tight and eager in his chest, Greed ran his hands over that body, and when it pushed him back on the couch and lowered its head to his already-loosened waistline … ah.

The heat of the boy's mouth was phenomenal. Greed's head fell back against the back of the couch and he only just remembered to his keep his hands tight on Envy's shoulders, in case he meant to try something. Greed closed his eyes against the golden hair and the golden eyes and the rich, tanned skin and felt only the tongue wrapped lovingly around his cock. The boy's mouth moved slowly, carefully, but that was all a ruse and as his tongue picked up the pace they fell into a pattern of movement that was suddenly achingly familiar: the flicker of tongue, the confident pull and suck of the lips – it was Envy's mouth. And just this once, Greed felt free to love the feel of it.

"Enough," he groaned, when he felt his hips seize with electric pressure.

The mouth pulled away, and Edward's body allowed Greed to position himself at his entrance. Greed stared down at the body, panting in expectation.

_Is this what you want, Envy? You really just want me to use you like this? Just like the old days?_

The golden eyes flashed inwards for a moment, and his mouth gasped for air as Greed took his weeping member in hand and pushed himself, not ungently, into the tight passage. Edward's mouth moved but no sound came out. Greed's entire body surged forward in one great hot shiver and, losing the last vestiges of self-control, he began to move against the body.

The cries and gasps – soft, but audible – of that body as he pumped into it again and again were heart-wrenchingly familiar, even if the voice was deeper, even if the eyes were the wrong colour and too sweet.

_Oh, God, Envy – I missed you. I missed what you do to me._

Because haircolour notwithstanding, his body couldn't be fooled – his body knew that this was Envy. The way his arms moved or resisted moving … It brought back a wave of nostalgia, it reminded Greed of fearless Envy, of brash and angry Envy, long ago, before the imprisonment. Envy didn't change. And he still hadn't tried anything, hadn't tried to hurt him – and Greed thought maybe, just maybe, the boy was capable of feeling something other than rage for thirty seconds together …

Greed was nearing his climax when he noticed it: Envy's skin shivered in that strange, unnatural way, almost imperceptibly. The colour of his hair – was it just a shadow? And then Envy gripped him by the shoulders and forced him to meet his eyes.

"No," rasped Greed, but it was too late – he was too close, and it felt too good to be buried in that body, that body that had given itself up to him, begged for him. "No!"

But Envy was changing, there was no denying that the eyes were darker. At first, Greed thought he was only falling back into his usual form, a way of getting his own back at the last moment, but Greed was wrong – the body shivered beneath his hands, and Dante's face grinned back at him, sweetly, demurely, as only Dante could. And it was too late. The muscles of Envy's changing body bunched and coiled around his cock. The sensation scrambled his brain and when he fell forward in orgasmic climax, he fell onto Dante's breast, with his hands in Dante's hair, with Dante's eyes burned into his memory and Dante's voice crooning in his ear.

And the only thing Greed could think of was how much he hated Envy. He groaned as his orgasm wracked the last ounce of strength from his limbs, and he mumbled into Dante's throat, "You bastard …"

* * * * *

Envy fell back against the couch with a small sigh of pleasure as Greed spasmed, shivered, then stilled against his body. The bigger man was breathing hard – anger and revulsion warred on his face as Envy's body shifted one final time beneath him, and Envy's eyes looked up at him from Envy's face.

"You bastard." Greed's voice was toneless.

"I know." He hadn't gotten what he wanted, of course – but he _never_ got what he wanted, not with Greed. He didn't even know what he wanted. But he refused to let Greed have it all his own way. He'd won, even if he was miserable. He'd ruined that moment for Greed – and it was a cruel thing to do, really. Dante had tortured him, had done her best to end his life, and Envy felt a thrill of triumph when he realized that he had been right, that Greed _did_ fear her. Greed's expression had been worth it.

Greed's heat pressed down on him, keeping him immobile, and it was just as well – Greed had pulled out of Dante's body so fast you'd think he'd been scalded, and Envy still hurt vaguely from the swift retraction.

And he suspected he was about to hurt far more in a minute.

Greed pushed himself up onto his elbows and locked eyes with Envy. Envy stared back, gave him a sickly sort of grin. He was beyond bullying, beyond intimidation. Greed could hurt him all he wanted now – Envy knew what he feared, what was real for him. It didn't heal the ache, it didn't fill the void, but it could fuel the fire of his simmering rage. He grinned, wincing, and waited for Greed's anger to find him again.

For one long, interminable minute, Envy thought that was the end right there – he thought Greed would tighten the hands that had come to rest around his neck, and be done with him.

_Go ahead, Greed. I won't fight you on this, you bastard._

Instead, Greed sighed, and lowered his head to rest on Envy's chest with a low, pained growl. "How long does this game go on, Envy?"

Envy struggled to find his words. The weight of Greed's head on his chest was warm and comfortable – if he didn't think about it too much – and he was still aching and charged. But he swallowed his body's physical human responses and fought Greed's rhetoric. "As long as you let it. You know what I want."

"_You_ don't even know what you want."

Envy nodded. "That, too."

* * * * *

Greed moaned and closed his eyes. Somewhere between the pain and the fear and the frustration and the rage, he felt a twinge for his broken sort-of sibling. Envy was fighting against something that he'd accepted, long ago. "I want impossible things too, Envy – but we're just … static appetites. You think it'll help? The stone? It won't. Humans weren't built with a purpose – they just _are_. But us … we were made. Our desires control us – it's the best we can do to try and live with what we have. We don't have the option of getting any better. So don't live in hope, Envy. Hope is what keeps humans going. It's what drives them. But this thing – this hope – it can't drive _us_. You'll go crazy if you let it. Don't you get it? You're doomed to hate him, just like I'm doomed to hate _her_. We're doomed to hate each other, in our way. At the end of the day."

He opened his eyes, but didn't quite have the courage to look into Envy's face. He didn't know what would meet him there. "Even now, even after I've said that, all I do is _want_. I would take you again in an instant if I thought it would make things better for me, or if it wouldn't make my craving worse, but it does and it always will. Why do you insist on doing this to us, Envy? It won't make anything better."

Envy let out a sigh – long, slow, irritable, impatient, and Greed realized for the first time that Envy's hand had rested on the nape of his neck as he'd lain there on his stomach, whining and bitterly lecturing. That he'd never received a sign of intimacy from Envy, not even before Dante had tried to kill him, when things between them hadn't been quite as fucked up as they were now. That maybe Envy had known and accepted what Greed had to say, before he'd said it. That maybe this small gesture was as close as Envy – as close as either of them – could come to an apology.

Greed knew Envy well: he wanted what he couldn't have, he ran on rage and hate, but … Envy was here in his arms, and that ran in the face of everything else. Greed, for a moment, wondered if Envy hadn't been pliable at one point, maybe – pliable enough to ruin … maybe it _was_ Dante's fault. Envy was the first, and Envy had been an experiment, but maybe he had been – once – capable of … more …

"Maybe you're right," floated Envy's voice, somewhere above Greed's misery. Greed looked up – Envy's head had fallen back, and he was staring at the ceiling. "Maybe we're never supposed to be happy … satisfied. You have to fight to consume, and I just … have to fight, I guess. For what I want."

"What do you want?"

"Why are you asking me? You always knew better than I did, just so you could deny me. You're sort of a bastard like that."

They lay still, exhausted with their own anxiety.

_You have to fight to consume._

That much was true. He was always consuming, always following that mindless thrum of pleasure in his breast, and that was the only thing that satisfied him, even momentarily.

And yet Envy's hand was still on his neck – it neither offered nor insisted, but simply rested there. A sign of apology? Defeat? They were one and the same, when it came to this twisted thing between them.

Greed pulled back from Envy's body and pushed himself up, so that he was raised high above him. Envy looked up with his dark, slanted eyes, but he didn't look angry – simply sullen and tired. 'What now, Greed?' those resentful eyes seemed to say. But he made no effort to shift, to defend himself. He'd won this round, he'd torn the mask off Greed's fear, and he would take the consequences, because there was nowhere else for him to run. He couldn't escape himself, his own wired-in compulsions.

But maybe Greed could.

For a moment.

Without speaking, without meeting that resentful gaze, Greed bent down to kiss the soft skin of Envy's stomach. Envy's body jerked into motion, and he let out a little strangled cry of surprise. He pressed his hands against Greed's shoulders as if to push him away, but they were tentative – he was unsure what game Greed was playing. Greed ignored those indecisive hands and kissed the tight, toned plane of Envy's stomach. He could feel the lust stirring in him again, that all-consuming, mindless drive, but he beat it down within him and felt a pang when he reminded himself that this body in front of him wasn't his, would never be his.

"Greed," snapped Envy, torn – as always – between pleasure and anger, "what are you – "

Greed's arm snaked up and grabbed one of Envy's wrists – he wasn't so far gone that he was going to trust Envy, because Envy was tricky – but Envy didn't fight it, because he wasn't quite sure … and so Greed was rewarded by a gasp of sheer shock when he pushed aside Envy's garments and closed his mouth down over Envy's cock.

Envy's head fell back and his hips bucked forward as Greed's lips slipped over his foreskin and brought him to aching attention.

* * * * *

"Greed, stop," Envy gasped, but he didn't know why he said it – this was unfamiliar, this was terrifying, this was _exactly what he wanted_ and Greed was giving it to him. _Greed_.

Greed didn't stop; he swatted Envy's protestations away as easily as he'd twisted Envy's wrist above his head. Envy was in a world where his words were less than useless, and it didn't even matter any more.

_Why stop?_

This wasn't what he'd ever asked for – he'd never asked for this, yet Greed was giving it to him free of charge. Greed was giving him this of his own volition.

"Stop …"

The word made it out of his mouth but Envy didn't know how or why, because _he_ certainly wasn't going to tell Greed to stop, and anyways he was finding it increasingly difficult to think about _why_ Greed was doing this because all his mental processes were overwhelmed with the sensation of Greed's body against his own, and Greed's mouth on him, and Greed's tongue laving the length of his member.

Envy felt tears on his cheeks and wiped them clumsily away with his free hand, and part of him wondered vaguely why but the rest of his brain was gasping and grappling for purchase against reality as spots danced across his vision. The blood began to drain from his head as Envy approached his climax. His body felt like it was spiraling upwards into the night, and Envy moaned, unsure if it was because of the pleasure or because Greed's grip had tightened on his wrist. All he could focus on was the strange, incongruous sight of Greed's bowed head between his legs.

"Greed!" gasped Envy, as the orgasm wrenched his body free of all encumbrances.

For a moment, he was … sated.

And then the moment passed, as all moments do, and Envy was once again acutely aware of the pain in his body, of why he'd been sent there, of his weak, post-orgasmic limbs and of Greed's long, toned body still pressed against his.

"Greed …" he began, but thought better of it.

They were silent for a moment longer, then Greed made to get up off the couch.

"Wait," Envy gasped, and reached out. Greed didn't meet his eyes. Perhaps he was ashamed of his own moment of compassion, but Envy didn't make him speak, didn't force him to acknowledge anything. He simply reached out with a shaking hand. Greed groaned, but he yielded to the slight pressure and put his head on Envy's panting stomach. The sweat cooled on their half-naked bodies as they lay, breathing together.

Envy closed his eyes and leaned back, unsteady and uncertain but still strangely sated – was that the word? Was that how this felt? One of them would break the peace, one of them would push the other way. In a moment, Envy knew, everything would be back to normal, and he focused on the sensations to keep the anger from seeping back into his mind. Greed's hand on his hip. Greed's head on his stomach, lips pressed to the skin wetly. Greed … just there…

* * * * *

Greed couldn't look up, couldn't open his eyes – because Envy was so tricky. He'd fuck Greed over in an instant if he had the chance, and Greed had just given him ample opportunity. Envy had the weapons, now. And no, it hadn't been enough, and yes, he wanted more, always always more, but to give felt so different from taking that maybe this could stand on its own, regardless.

And still Envy didn't move. Greed was on tenterhooks, waiting for the barb, waiting for Envy to dart out at him again, to attack him, but Envy was still, and time crawled achingly forward.

Greed reached up, without looking, and placed his hand over Envy's heart. Not a human heart. But maybe its beat felt like one, because pointlessly, pointlessly, it beat. They had seconds left, maybe, before one of them shattered this – this – whatever this was, between them. But they had seconds.

~ Fin ~

* * * * *

This wasn't how I originally intended it to end. It got a little cheese-ball on me ("you only hate me because you ~luuuuuuuurve~ me!" / SEX SOLVES EVERYTHING) but I simply had to finish it – I couldn't have it preying on my conscience any longer. :) I had to force a few things instead of letting them play out on their own, but it ended up staying (pretty) true to my original idea, so I'm relatively pleased.


End file.
